Playing the Fool
by BekTehGreat
Summary: "Don't you see? He's married to his work. His first move was taking you along with him the first case you were around for." John/Sherlock Rater for slash in second chapter and cursing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my first fic in a long time. To long I would say... But alas I am back with a brand new alias!**

**Yes, this is the former Mini-J now the amazing BekTehGreat! I like it, hope you do.**

**But enough about me. This fic! I'm writing for Sherlock now *smirk* and oh god am I having fun with this.**

**Rated M for the second chapter**

**SHERLOCK/JOHN. THIS IS SLASH. JUST SO YOU KNOW.**

**Sir Arthur Conan Doyle does not mind everyone getting a piece of the action off of his works, But none the less, BBC and the brilliant Steven Moffat and all the others that work on _Sherlock_ own this version of Sherlock. I only borrow them for my own personal pleasure and allow you the audience to get a glimpse of how my mind works (scary huh?)**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>Don't you see? He's married to his work. His first move was taking you along with him the first case you were around for."<em>

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><p>I had noticed for a while now. Granted, I may have known for longer had I not denied myself for so long. But notice I did. At first it was a mere fleeting thought. Something that just popped into my head for a few seconds before being shut down by the logical portion of my brain. But then it became hard to ignore. The way my hands might linger to long when I was handing off a cup of tea. The way I anticipated whenever he would call me for the pure sense of feeling like I was needed in his life. The way I caught myself staring for a little too long at the little sight of his pale exposed neck in his contrasting dark button up shirts that fit him so well.<p>

I was feeling as if I was losing control of my mind. And that's coming from a man who was already seeing a psychologist for stress caused by a bloody war! But this was entirely different. This was something much stronger and with much more power. This was something that mentally crippled me more than the damn leg. And this was something that was beginning to have a problem physically as well, seeing as it was hard to be alone with him.

Then the prat had to go and pull this! I was staring at white page and a blinking cursor. When Sherlock had nothing to do it was horrible for both my patients and my blog writing. I meant it when I said my life wasn't exciting. He made it exciting. In many ways. One of which was about to hit me particularly hard.

"John."

I sighed a little refusing to look over at Sherlock, whom at the moment was watching some pretty terrible TV. "I'm trying to type Sherlock."

"Please. You've been staring at the blank page for about ten minutes. The first four or so minutes you were thinking of what to write. But ever since then your thoughts shifted." I heard the TV turn off and turned to see Sherlock standing and stretching, his back towards me. I slightly noticed that my eyes were staring at his shape under the fitted clothing he wore, but even that didn't make anything click. "And the way that you are looking at me proves everything I was thinking." He turned slightly, giving me a look over his shoulder. "I'm going to go play the violin and ponder on this new found knowledge and what course of action should be taken."

I snapped my eyes back up to meet his and asked with a slightly hint of annoyance "What new found knowledge? And what the hell do you think I was thinking about?"

He smirked ever so slightly. "You were obviously thinking about me and how we could both ease our boredom with a round of sex. I just have to think if it's because you're horny since you and that last girl you had split or if it's because you actually are interested in me. My own feelings are getting in the way of my deducing. Hence why I shall go and play the violin."

I couldn't think of anything to say. I noticed after he was already out of the room that my mouth was hanging open. Feeling the annoyance turn into anger, I shouted "Sherlock!"

His head popped into the room. "Don't wake Mrs. Hudson. That would just be improper." And then he was off again, ending the conversation when I heard the door to his room shut.

I wanted to shout. I wanted to answer back. But the damn fool was right and no, I did not want to wake Mrs. Hudson up. Especially given the circumstances. Far too many questions.

So I sat there instead, like a child, refusing to even consider what his words meant. I was just thinking about how wrong he was and how he just liked to create things out of mid-air just to get a rise out of people and ignoring the fact that he _never_ gets things out of mid-air.

Then the last bit of his statement finally sunk in. _His own feelings are in the way? This means…_

"Oh hello John."

I looked up and saw Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway. "Oh… Sorry about the racket. Didn't mean to disturb you."

"Dear, don't worry about that. I wasn't sleeping just yet." She said, a small smile on her face. She walked into the living room and stood by me. "Although, I did hear the entire conversation."

I looked away from her slightly. Great. I'm going to have to hear about her and her assumptions.

"Now don't put that face on! I was just coming out here to see how you were. Hearing something like that isn't something that one has to deal with every day."

I sighed. "I don't have the slightest idea of what you are talking about Mrs. Hudson."

"Now don't give me any of that." She said, wagging her finger at me as she walked further into the room. "I know that the lot of you think that I'm just a nosey little old woman, but I have experience. Wisdom you could say. I know a lot more than you think I do on these matters."

I shifted to sit up, but she held a hand in front of me and that thought left. She was going to make me listen to whatever she had to say.

"Listen, you know Sherlock a little more than I do," I started "but I think he made it quite clear from the first couple of days of me knowing him that he clearly doesn't really care for feelings, that he's not attracted to people. And I just happen to be a person."

Mrs. Hudson let out an amused breath. "Surely you don't believe that he doesn't care for feelings."

"Not outside of the feelings that lead one to commit a crime."

She shook her head. "John. I think you know better than that."

I certainly didn't allow myself to think about these kinds of things much, mostly because these were the main excuses I was using to keep myself from doing something extremely stupid and ending up homeless. Denial is definitely a strong protecting force in the mind of all people. And as Mrs. Hudson was not letting me leave my seat, and also being quite for once in her life, I had nothing to do _but_ think about Sherlock and feelings.

Of course the man felt things. He certainly felt joy, though sometimes at very inadequate things. Such as murders. But I also had felt that same sense of joy emanating from the other man on those rare occasions when he was actually calm. When he happened to be around me and I managed to do something that made him laugh.

Then there was that time by the pool…

I hadn't really thought about anything that day because _I had a bomb on my chest_. But when Moriarty finally left for the few moments, I remember Sherlock's eyes so clearly. They were frantic, so full of a range that I had never seen come from this man. After he threw the damn vest to the side, another emotion… _love?_ Relief.

"Fine." I sighed. "The great Sherlock has emotion. He may be a sociopath, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have emotion. He just can't show it like normal people. You're right." I stood, this time the older woman standing aside slightly to allow me to do so. "And with emotion comes giving a crap about some people. But not me. Or at least…" _not the way I wanted._

"Oh cut that out. No use hiding that from me. Like I said, I heard everything. Plus, you may be a soldier and a great doctor, but your emotions are written across your face on a constant deary."

I shook my head and walked toward the door.

"And he does care about you. A great deal. And yes, in the way you would like."

I stopped and turned. _I would love to know how you got to that assumption._ "How do you know?" Ok… still harsher tone but at least not that disrespectful. "Not to be rude, but his exact quote when this sort of issue comes up is that he's 'married to his work'. No interest in… well…" _me. What I want. A relationship._ I decided to just let the sentence drop.

She walked towards the doorway. "Don't you see? He's married to his work. His first move was taking you along with him the first case you were around for." With that she walked to the door to her apartment. "Goodnight deary." She said, a wide smile across her face as she closed the door behind her.

I was left standing in the doorway, again foolishly comparing myself to a child. _No… she's never right. She couldn't be…damn it._ I thought about it. It… made… sense. I would never _ever_ admit that aloud. I let her have her own silent triumph on that. If it proves to be true. Which in my brain… is proving more logical by the second.

He always wanted me on a case. At first I thought it was because I was a doctor. Then I thought it was because he needed someone with a gun. But I soon realized that I would go along with him more as a companion. Sure I would help him, but then again, the feeling as progressively moving from that of _need_ and becoming that of a _want_.

And then of course the last thing that Sherlock said before he left the room in the first place. About his own feelings getting in the way of his deduction. Of whether he couldn't determine if I was feeling lust or… something more.

My mind hesitated on that last bit. Something more.

Love?

Maybe…

I sighed. _Yes. Love. God help me_.

I heard the violin. Whether or not it was playing this whole time, I didn't really know. Nor care. I felt myself walking toward the room. I stopped outside of the door, hesitating. I couldn't.

I took a deep breath in.

_John, you're an army doctor. You've seen war. You've killed people. Are you really this afraid of the thoughts of this one man?_

_Yes…_

I shook my head and opened the door.

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Second one coming soon ;D<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry I took so long. Got a bit busy with life but it's up!**

**By the By, this chapter is the reason why this story is rated M. Just a warning!**

**Ok Enough talk**

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><p>I walked in, expecting the music to stop. Well… I suppose that was a silly assumption on my part. I opened my mouth to make myself known, but my eyes actually caught a glimpse of what was in front of me. Besides the room being a disaster, which I should have expected, I looked at Sherlock. He was sitting on his bed, shirt sleeves rolled up, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His dark hair was slightly covering his face as he continued to play the unrecognizable tune, his long pale fingers moving slowly and sensually. And I couldn't help but think <em>He's absolutely beautiful<em>. Was that even a proper way to describe a man? It didn't matter. It was a way to describe Sherlock.

"And I've finally come to my answer" I almost jumped at the sound of his voice, much lower than usual. I looked at him and watched him slowly put his violin away. As soon as he placed it aside, his grey eyes locked with mine.

_Fuck_

He walked up to me and closed the door to his bedroom before backing me up into it. I suddenly became very aware of our height difference. I peered up at him and saw the dangerous color in his eyes, pupils almost completely covering the grey-blue.

It drove me over the edge. I reached up and closed the space between us, pressing my lips roughly against his. I felt a small smile before I was pinned completely by the other body, one hand against the door and the other around my waist as his lips moved wildly, _hungrily_ against mine. He nipped gently at my bottom lip and I gasped, which he took full advantage of by thrusting his tongue past my lips and began to explore. I gently teased his with mine, earning a small groan from deep in his chest. I put a hand in the dark curls and tugged him away before moving my lips to his pale neck. I watched his eyes widen and felt the vibrations of the low moan as he moved his head to expose more neck. I continued my venture down, nipping and sucking and kissing, leaving red marks in my wake. He thrust his hips slightly, our lengths meeting and a loud moan escaped us both.

It felt amazing to know that just these touches got him in this state. Feeling bold, I used this opportunity to push Sherlock back, making a line toward his bed before tumbling onto it and pinning him. His eyes widened and he let a small sound out when I pushed his wrists above his head and held them in a strong grip before attacking his lips again. It was messy and amazing.

He pushed me away slightly. I felt a twinge of confusion until I looked down. He was panting, obviously trying to calm himself. The fact that the expression was so obvious in a man that did his best to hide everything made me feel a great deal of triumph. I moved my free hand to his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it while caressing the newly visible skin. Once it was open, I unpinned his wrist momentarily to tug the fabric off.

He was absolutely magnificent. He was pale, almost glowing in the light coming in from the window, his slim toned figure slightly surprising as I now understood where that immense strength hid. I leaned down and began to leave a trail of bites down his chest, marking him. Making him mine.

_He's mine_.

I gently nipped the pertruding hip bones, moving toward the middle. I looked up at him. His eyes were locked with mine and I thought that for the first time, he didn't know exactly what was going to happen. Neither did I really, but that expression on the Great Sherlock was a turn on. He was vulnerable. To me. I smiled and gently nuzzled my cheek against his length. He threw his head back and moaned full and long. I came up slowly and looked at him. He stared up at me, a red flush spreading down from his face to chest.

"John…" His voice was octaves lower; something I didn't think was possible. The tone alone made my cock twitch and harden further. I became painfully aware of the fact that I was still fully clothed. I made a move to pull off my jumper but I felt Sherlocks fingers on my hands. He batted them away and pushed me so our positions were switched. He straddled me and slowly removed my jumper and shirt, throwing them off to the side. He then looked down, studying me. His fingers gently touched my shoulder, tracing lightly over the lines of the scar. My mouth hung open as a small gasp escaped. Sherlock noticed my reaction and bent down, moving his lips over it. I closed my eyes and just felt him slowly move over it, allowing his tongue to slip out and trace the scar, leaving little kisses along it.

Most of the other people that I have been with either looked at it or just ignored that it existed. Sherlock was the first and only one to give it this much attention, using the sensitivity of it to his advantage as he allowed his hands to roam over the rest of my body, fingers nimbly teasing my nipples. I was unable to do anything but just feel the man above me, feel what he was doing to me and the power that he had over me right now, that he always had over me in one way or another.

He moved up and joined his lips with mine, gently at first but quickly growing with need and lust. Our tongues danced together until we were both breathless and needing more. We separated and the look in his eye cause a groan to escape, pushing him back under me and quickly working at his trousers and pants. Which proves to be difficult when the other person is trying to do the same, but none the less possible. We discarded the extra clothing and gave a glance down at each other. Longer than most, slightly thinner as well. Same as the rest of him. I smirked as he studied me (for that was the only word to describe the look he gave me).

"Lube?"

Sherlock looked up. "Side drawer."

I reached over and rummaged through it, finding it eventually. I brought it over and put a good amount on my fingers. Sherlock closed his eyes slightly and I smiled.

"Open your eyes."

He did so, slight confusion in his eyes. I didn't leave him like that for long. I traced down my own body and reached back, preparing myself. Sherlock gulped and his cock twitched. I smirked and closed my eyes, feeling the stretch and gasping as I added the second digit and finger fucked myself.

Suddenly I heard a low growl and before my eyes could open my fingers were removed and I was thrown on the bed. I looked up and Sherlock eyes were fixed on me as he lubed his own fingers, wasting no time in pushing them in. I groaned as his long digits were able to immediately hit that pleasure point inside, making me moan without caring who the hell was in the house or even anywhere within a five block radius.

"How are you the only person that can do this to me?" Sherlock growled as he roughly abused the spot, adding a third finger. "How are you the only person who can be an idiot and surprise me at the same time?" He pulled his fingers out and I cursed myself for the whimper that escaped my lips.

I looked at him. His eyes were wild as he spread a generous amount of lube on himself and tossed the bottle to the side, positioning himself above me. Then, wasting no time, he pushed inside.

"Ah… Sherlock!" I ground out.

He pushed himself until he was completely within me, breathing heavy. "You obviously haven't done this."

I shook my head. "I have. Not in a long time." I breathed. I was still trying to adjust myself around him. "You?"

"Same." He gasped. "Not often trusted enough to be giver though."

I looked up at him. He was serious. _That's why he was surprised. Hell… I was surprised._ I felt a bit of sorrow.

"Don't feel sorry for me. Just had… different experiences."

I shifted slightly. "That'll be different now." I said before leaning up and whispering "Although I think you should hurry up and fuck me hard so I can have the energy to reciprocate sooner."

I couldn't control the fighter inside me, but I knew the challenge inside Sherlock enjoyed that by the way he twitched and grew within me. He smirked and started moving, long deep thrusts making us both groan from the pleasure of just feeling. I groaned at the feel of the tip almost popping completely out before diving roughly back with me. I wrapped my legs and arms around him, dragging my blunt nails across his back making him arch into it and gasp. Every moment was testing my self-control as I tried to hold onto the moment as long as possible. His lips moved to mine and we kissed, messy and full of teeth and tongue and oh god the thrusts were getting quicker and hitting that spot. I heard my name on his lips, coming out like a mantra as my thoughts began to shut off and my senses were just full of Sherlock. And when I opened my eyes and saw the black curls damp with sweat, half-lidded dark eyes, tight muscles moving under pale skin mixed everything else I came, harder than I had in a long time, his name screamed as everything went white. I felt mere moments later his body spasm and fill me, a low growled "John" bouncing off the walls of the room.

He collapsed on me and just kissed any patch of skin he could reach as we tried to regain our breath. I pulled him in for a full kiss on his swollen lips, tender and passionate. He pulled out and I felt the loss. He rolled over so he was next to me and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me under his chin. Again, the height difference was made clear to me, but this time I liked it and nuzzled into the long neck.

"Well?"

I looked up. "Well what?"

"Did I ease your boredom?"

I rolled my eyes and contemplated answering sarcastically but just settled on "Yeah."

"John."

"Yeah? What?"

"You're not going to leave the flat are you?"

I looked up at him. There was true concern in his eyes. "You know that I won't."

"One can never be too sure."

I smiled. "I won't surprise you with that. I'm sorry to say you're stuck with me for the time being."

"Because you love me?"

I sighed. "Yes. Because I love you."

There was a small silence before I felt his arms wrap around me tighter. "I think I love you too."

I shrugged mentally. This in addition to the question as to whether or not I was staying made a pretty sizable declaration coming from Sherlock. _Still_…"Allow me to try and get rid of the 'I think' in that statement."

Sherlock smirked and I felt him twitch to life again. "Should be easy. Only for you though."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know if I should make a sequel... Thinking about it. Gave myself a plot bunny with "I think I love you too."<strong>

***shrug* Until the next fic! Much love**

**And edited because there were some mistakes that were annoying to me XD (That's what I get for trying to finish this quick)**


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